Anniversary
by Sora Blade707
Summary: This is one of those days where Alfred takes a step back from his life, looks at a memorial, and reflects upon his past. USxUK, Franada implied, 9/11 fic


**Title: **Anniversary

**Author: **Ryuuto

**Series: **Hetalia

**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **America, England, Canada, France, US x UK, Franada implied

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **9/11, language, BL

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the OC's I used.

**Summary:** This is one of those days where Alfred takes a step back from his life, looks at a memorial, and reflects upon his past.

**A/N:** Right. So. Yeah. Contributing to this day and I don't care if it's becoming a cliché.

~*~*~*

When he looked back on the day the planes crashed into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, Alfred could only remember the pain he had felt. Alfred honestly couldn't remember anything of the events before the pain had struck him. All he remembered was being in New York City when it happened. The American couldn't remember whom he was with or anything like that, but he clearly remembered that when most of the pain had passed, Alfred had tried his damnedest to help reunite separated families and treat the injured. Alfred never stopped working with his people, even though he should have been resting due to his own injuries. He vaguely remembered Arthur telling him he was an idiot while helping reunite the families. The American barely even recalled how Matthew had told him that he was doing the right thing and that it was very heroic of him to help his people in need.

Alfred gazed at the memorial of the Twin Towers morosely and guiltily. He reached out and touched the plaque, running his hands over the names of the deceased. The blond choked back a sob, remembering clearly the pain they must have felt before death claimed them. Alfred felt as though he had failed his people in protecting them from danger, especially when he remembered how some of the patients he had helped treat died on the "table." He was unaware of the tears that were falling down from his sky-blue eyes as he gazed at the familiar names on the plaque.

Kayla Wilson. She had been on tour of the Twin Towers when the planes crashed into the buildings. Kayla had been a strong-willed woman who wanted to make a difference. She left behind her son and daughter, but her husband had committed suicide the day after they had identified her body. Alfred smiled a little when he remembered the days he and Kayla would walk in the park, watching the kids play. He remembered watching over the kids until they could move in with their legal guardians, trying his hardest to comfort them.

Mike Nicholson. He was one of the many employees who had died while working in the Twin Towers. Mike had been single, but had left behind a younger sister he had been close to. He was a man who loved to have fun and not let anybody drag him down. Mike had been the one who seemed to have a sixth sense for when Alfred was not feeling like himself. He would be the one to help the blond get back on his feet, no matter what. Alfred smiled as he remembered the outrageous lengths the man would have gone through to get the blond to at least crack a true smile.

The list of people Alfred had known went on, each one driving home the memories and guilt he had felt so strongly that day. Ever since the catastrophe, the young nation had made sure to memorize each and every name of the deceased and missing. He never wanted to forget about the people he felt he had let down.

Two hands fell on his shoulders, causing him to jump a little in surprise. He turned to the left and saw Arthur's solemn expression, but his emerald eyes showed his understanding. Alfred looked to the right and saw Matthew's sympathetic lilac eyes. He turned away from them and wiped his tears away; the American was a little embarrassed at having two of the three people he cared the most about see him like this.

"_Amerique_," the heavy French accent from behind Alfred made him jump a little again, "It is alright to cry for your people."

"Frog's right, unfortunately," Arthur added without his usual heat. Matthew said nothing, but the American knew what he wanted to say. Alfred was also silent, but he was also smiling, grateful for the support he had from France, England, and Canada.

"Come. Let us go have a meal and toast out of respect for those who were lost," Francis told them, using his "no-nonsense" tone of voice. Matthew smiled encouragingly, following the Frenchman and suggesting a couple of restaurants they could go to. Arthur wrapped his arm around Alfred's waist, coaxing him away from the memorial.

"You did the best you could and you helped save lives. That counts for something, Alfred," the blond Briton told his partner softly. Alfred glanced at the older nation and broke out into the first loving smile for the first time that day. The American made no comment, merely giving a chaste kiss on top of Arthur's head out of gratitude. He felt blessed to have such a supportive and loving (and dysfunctional) family.


End file.
